Die and Be Again
by this is my pseudonym
Summary: "I don't often say this, but I'm sorry I killed your body, Rose."
1. 1

"I don't often say this, but I'm sorry I killed your body, Rose."

* * *

"You're just jealous, Rose. I mean, c'mon!"

Rose quirked her right brow, giving Mickey her patented 'I'm superior to all' look, and crossed her arms. Mickey shifted uncomfortably under that gaze; a gaze that she'd had since she got stuck in this world, or, if he was _really _honest, even before; the gaze of someone who's seen more, done more, learned more than anyone combined on this single lonely rock. It was an old gaze, a wise gaze, a gaze Jackie'd said meant Rose was far from human any more.

"I can't believe you, Mickey. Out of everyone, I thought that _you'd _believe me! I'm all for geniuses in the workplace, knowin' things about aliens an' helpin' out an' savin' the day. The more, the merrier, I say even! But look at Tehrani's credentials; she's a first class nerd from Trinity, spent all her time in the lab (or so she says), but the first alien invasion that comes along, from a species some of our alien residents've never even heard of, and she suddenly knows how to stop 'em? Just like that? Before recon, before first contact, and wham! She's got an idea? Doesn't that seem suspicious to you?"

As she took a deep breath, trying to recover from her rant, Rose noticed the looks thrown her way. They've all got a slight bit of fear deep in their eyes, not something Rose'd ever been too fond of (or even understood), but around the edges, there's amusement. She sighed and hung her head, her hair falling forward to cover her exasperation, and pinched the bridge of her nose.

A warm, familiar hand cupped her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly as Mickey moved into her face and met her, forehead to forehead.

"Babe, it was just a lucky guess, all right? You need to calm down, take a vacation, maybe some Valium. You're cracking, yeah? Becoming paranoid… the Doctor wouldn't want this for you."

Rose tensed, the words _you don't know what he'd want!_ sticking in her throat, and she had to hold herself back from lashing out at Mickey. Unlike her, he'd never taken advanced martial arts and she didn't want to break him. Tosh would never forgive her. Forcing her annoyance down, she relaxed her coiled muscles, released her frustration with a gusty sigh, and fixed her patented 'I'm really all right' look back onto her face.

Nodding, she looked into Mickey's eyes and smiled tiredly. "You're right of course. Bit out of sorts, s'all." She forced a deprecating laugh from her throat as she continued, "'N maybe I'm a little jealous. Never done well with sharing the spotlight, me. 'Specially when it comes to the important men in my life."

Mickey smiled, kissed her square on the forehead and murmured, "That's my girl."

She smiled back, chucked him on the shoulder, responded with a 'See ya later" and watched the man who'd once been her best friend, lover, boyfriend, walk away. As he turned the corner, out of sight, her façade dropped. He'd never been the best at reading her expressions, but she'd thought he'd gotten better. She took a deep breath, performed an about-face, and marched down the hall in the opposite direction. She shouldn't be surprised that they weren't that close any more and truthfully, she wasn't. He'd grown and changed, came into his own here at Pete's Torchwood. She'd changed too. The Doctor'd seen to that. Now, they were not only worlds apart, but eons. She didn't think they'd ever be in the same orbit again.

Mickey'd learned things here, but still, he didn't know enough. Not like Rose. And Rose knew that Tehrani Bhanjee was not the person she presented to the world.

* * *

The readings were off the charts, whatever they were, and the scientists were abuzz like overexcited munchkins after the fall of the Wicked Witch. _Too bad only Mickey and mum'd understand that reference_, Rose thought idly.

She flipped through the report slowly, trying to understand why the energy signature seemed so familiar.

"Could be 'cause I saw it sometime on the TARDIS console screen. Could be I seen it in class. It's just not comin' to me."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist about it. You and thirty other scientists declared it safe radiation. We should just ignore it for now, keep an eye out 'course, wait till it surfaces, but if it's not dangerous…"

Rose didn't even glance up at him as she spoke.

"Just 'cause it's not dangerous in and of itself doesn't mean it can't be used as some sort o' weapon, Mickey. You should know that."

A loud, put upon sigh echoed from the corner of her office, where Mickey sprawled exhaustedly.

"You're killin' me, babe. I used to be the big man on campus here, yeah? Then you come along with your wise eyes and serious air and _wham! _You're the queen of the ball."

Rose smirked and tossed an amused glance Mickey's way. "So sorry, mate. Didn't realize _you _wanted to be queen."

Mickey sent a glare her way and a badly mimicked facial expression before he launched himself from his chair.

"Comin' to lunch with me and Tosh today?"

"I can't. I've-"

"Got work to do, I'm busy Mickey! The world can't protect itself. It'll explode if it doesn't have Rose Tyler protectin' it 24/7 because after all, it didn't exist before I blessed this reality with my presence."

Silence fell after Mickey finished his diatribe and they stared at each other. Rose blinked, tucked a piece of unruly hair back behind her ear, and stood, grabbing her deep purple leather jacket as she did. As she stormed passed Mickey into the hallway, she sulked, "I do not sound like that."

"I do _not _sound like that!"

"Mickey, shut it!"

"Mickey, shut it!"

He couldn't hold it in any longer, the breathy, ditzy voice he'd put on succumbing to his guffaws of laughter.

Rose clenched her fists, growled and stomped down the hall, followed hauntingly by Mickey's self-amusement. As she rounded the corner towards the lift, she shot over her shoulder, "The world must feel so safe with you on the job, yeah?"

* * *

Shutters fell fast over Rose's eyes when she and Mickey approached his and Tosh's usual table at 1/2h Café. Tehrani smiled up at them, giving Rose the eye, and exclaimed, "Rose! Just the lass I wanted tae see."

Rose gritted her teeth into a smile. "Could we not talk shop, Tehrani? Only I just got an entirely childish lecture from Mickey an' I don't want to hear his impersonation of me again any time soon."

Mickey chuckled as Tosh shot him an amused glare and a slap to the arm. She then turned to Rose and beamed.

"I'd apologize for my lesser half, Rose, but since you've known him longer, you know it's not worth it."

Mickey shouted, "Oi!" as Rose barked out real laughter, immensely enjoying taking the mickey out of Mickey. Tehrani joined in, her tinkling laughter like fairy bells and her intense chocolate eyes sharp and quick. Rose supposed, well she _knew_, that Tehrani Bhanjee was gorgeous, with her dark silky hair and her Indian features. And she knew that some at Torchwood thought she was jealous not over her quick thinking on the Ha'rah'lani invasion force, but because she was no longer the reigning beauty.

It didn't bother her, what they thought, really, because she was going to get out of this Doctor-forsaken reality as soon as she could find a way. There _had _to be a way! She smiled at the waitress and ordered a Yorkshire Pudding and tea, then put aside her menu and looked across the table at Tosh and Tehrani. It was quite the effort to live in reality sometimes.

Tehrani leaned forward, her raven hair glistening almost blue under the sun. "I didn' want tae talk shop, Rose. I wanted tae ask ye how ye like this reality, compared tae the one ye came from."

Mickey failed to cover his wince and Tosh threw a "shhh!" Tehrani's way. Rose sighed and leaned back in her chair, feeling the buttons on its squabs digging mercilessly into her back; much like Tehrani's eyes were doing into Rose's own. She couldn't help but think the Irish woman was deliberately poking her bruises.

Crossing her arms over her chest and quirking her eyebrow, Rose smirked. She was Rose Marion Tyler and if she didn't take shite from the Oncoming Storm, she sure as hell wasn't going to take any from a brownnosing wound-opener.

"I hate it, actually. The chips suck, being made out of beets instead of potatoes, we've got a president instead of a Prime Minister, dollars instead of pounds, extravagant zeppelins circling the skies and blocking out the gorgeous sun, and J.K Rowling was either never born or never dreamed up Harry Potter."

She tsked sadly, enjoying immensely the flabbergasted looks on the faces of her audience, and sighed.

"And tha', well, _tha'_ is just the worst of the lot, tha' is."

She shook her head slowly, her hair swishing into her face. She tossed a self-satisfied wink and smile to Tehrani and finally released her mirth. It bubbled out of her like water from an overenthusiastic teapot, her shoulders shaking with the force. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Mickey shaking his head in concerned amusement, too used to Rose's complaints to even make comment. Tosh giggled uncertainly and Tehrani smiled tightly.

Ever the scientist (and evil genius, Rose was sure of this), Tehrani had no doubt tried to unearth any strange feelings Rose might be having; like the fact that this universe was wrong: it felt wrong, it looked wrong, it _smelled _wrong. She sometimes got dizzy and Rose was certain it was because this world spun slightly faster than her own. Mickey and her mum never complained, but to Rose, the differences were enormous. And sickening. She felt confined, though Rose knew that was just because she lacked a time and space machine, not any real fault of this world's. If she hadn't been certain there was a way back to her Doctor, she'd have stolen a space ship by now and gotten off this sedentary rock.

She wasn't going to divulge any of this to Tehrani however. And, Rose thought smugly as she observed Tehrani, that didn't sit well with her colleague. Not the least bit. And if the rest of lunch was slightly strained, Rose didn't care. Her mind, as usual, started to wander as she catalogued the newest pieces of alien technology Torchwood had acquired, running down the list to see which devices might be a good fit for busting through an invisible wall. Safely, of course. And Mickey, well, he was already older than her, already that much more removed from her than he'd been when he'd been the abandoned boyfriend. It wasn't hard for him to focus on Tosh and even Tehrani, to an extent, content with his new life in Discworld.

Blinking as the sun finally emerged, quite unexpectedly, out from behind a behemoth zeppelin, Rose brought her mind back to the present. She cast a fond eye onto Mickey, a slight smile spreading across her lips. She didn't begrudge him this existence, this happiness, this sense of awareness and confidence he'd acquired. She was ecstatic for him. But he was different, they didn't gel, not any more, and it made this lonely place just a bit more desolate. Sighing, she turned back to her food. If she was honest, they hadn't gelled since she'd come back from those first few trips with the Doctor; and that was her fault.

She let out a small laugh as Mickey's voice, mature and wiser, echoed through her mind her first week here, after she'd tried to apologize.

_Hey, babe, you can't help that he vwooped you off your feet._

"A hundred for your thoughts."

Rose glanced up, blushing when she noticed the entire table staring at her, Tehrani with avarice gleaming in her eyes.

Breathing deep, Rose answered Tosh's sweet voice. "Nothin' much. Just thought of somethin' someone said to me sometime, s'all."

Mickey dropped his fork and dusted his hands off. "Yep! That clears it up for us."

Rose snorted and shoved him lightly.

"Shut up!"

"Shut up!"

"Don't you start that again!"

"Don't you start that again!"

"Mickey!"

* * *

Rose wrinkled her nose as they passed, yet again, through another sludgy patch of sewage. The odor wafted upwards as their boots stirred the stagnant mess of human waste around in the ankle deep water, stinging her eyes and tickling her gag reflex.

"Another entire outfit I'm gonna have'ta toss when I get home."

Jake laughed and said, "I'd call you such a girl if I didn't concur wholeheartedly. In any case, no one ever said this life was glamorous."

Laughing quietly, Rose rejoined, "I could take it when it was aliens' guts, or slimy mud, or even bug juice, but the Doctor an' I never once walked through a sewer. Quite the gent, 'e was!"

She winced. Bhanjee didn't need to know about him. Sighing, she ignored that for now and paused to sweep her Electro-Magnifier out in front of her, from side to side. Not even a blip.

"Either of you gettin' any energy readin's?"

"Nada."

"None."

Rose growled inwardly, trying to keep herself from punching Tehrani on the nose. There was something in her voice, something that had been lacking the first half hour of their hunt, and it grated on Rose's nerves. Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, she continued forward, sweeping her torch back and forth carefully, thoroughly. Tehrani needed to be put on the backburner when there was Thraxin scuttling about London.

"Jake, tell me. Why exactly is it that aliens like to take a tour of London sewers? It always seems to be their first stop and there isn't even a little shop to make it worth the while."

A choked chuckle escaped from her Second as his beam swept upwards to the ceiling.

"You sayin' we should _set up _a little shop for their pleasure and convenience, then?"

"Well, least then I'd understand the draw. If'n it had good stuff on the shelves. Like jam. Or laser spanners. I like them. That cheeky Emily Pankhurst stole ours that one time."

There was nothing but the gentle sound of fecal infested waters lapping at their wellies following Rose's words. She winced, biting her bottom lip in chagrin. She knew Tehrani had heard that she was from a parallel reality, but she hadn't meant to allude to anything about the Doctor in front of the soon-to-be-revealed villainess; what really got her was saying anything in front of Jake, though. He was a good friend, the greatest even, to both her and Mickey, and she knew it pained him that she was still in pain, still thinking about _him_ even after four years.

Finally, after Rose felt that she'd break under the weight of the silence, Jake spoke softly, compassionately.

"You sound like him, you know? Sort of wise and serious and intense, but manic and scary at the same time. All with the knowledge of the stars echoing in your voice."

He quieted once more and the trio resumed their search of the squalid labyrinthine maze in the bowels of London in contemplative quiet.

As they came to a trident in the sewers and decided that splitting up was a good idea, Jake whispered before they separated, "Must be killin' you, forced to live in a place an' time too small."

She fixed a confident smile on her face and looked at Jake. He was great, the Torchwood in this reality equally as great, and she was making them think she was ungrateful. Skimming her eyes passed Tehrani, Rose murmured, "Yeah, well, I may want to go back but stuck here with you an' the rest… s'not so bad."

Jake smiled widely, understandingly, before he took off down the tunnel straight ahead. Tehrani pretended to gag before she took off to the left. Rose seriously considered getting her hands mucked just to nail the back of her silky head with shite. She shook her head, reminded herself that she was a Torchwood Director, _forced the echoes of another time she'd said those words down_, and turned into her own channel. Before they all disappeared into the dark, she whispered, "Keep your radios to hand."

* * *

There's nothing in the universe like hearing a Thraxin shriek. It gets into your bones, rattles your mind, severs your link to reality. The closest approximation to understanding it Rose could ever give someone, if they even asked, would be the word _banshee. _Her head jerked in the direction Jake had gone, south, and she took off like a shot. She yanked her radio out and yelled down the line, "Jake, Jake!"

The radio crackled, clicked to dead space, crackled again. She growled.

"Damn it!"

Her legs pumped strongly, the muscles in her thighs and calves flexing, as she rounded corner after corner, following the inhuman shrieks and growls of the alien. She'd only lost one member of her team before and she had no intention of raising that number to two. As she approached Jake's tunnel, the noises quieted down and she could see light ricocheting off the walls, casting eerie shadows on the fungus covered ceiling and glaring off the murky water. She slowed her approach, evened out her breathing, and tightened her grip on her stun gun.

Creeping slowly around the rounded corner, her shoulder brushed the wet moss dangling from cracks in the concrete. A dank smell wafted passed her nose and Rose resisted the urge to wrinkle it. She was Torchwood, damn it, and former companion of the Doctor. No smelly moss would get the better of her; _least, not 'til I've saved my team,_ flitted past her brain.

"And any and all personal commentary will be struck from the record of this mission," she muttered. Good thing Thraxins are deaf as door knobs. She stepped carefully, one foot crossing the other slowly, as her hands tightened on the handle of her gun. It didn't bode well, this eerie silence. As she approached the last leg of her journey, she cocked her head, listening intently. Absolutely nothing.

_Well, actually, there aren't any eatin' sounds, so it can't be all bad. Right?_

Her boot sent a rock skidding across the ground and into the Thraxin's sight. Rose winced. Her hands brought her stun gun to bear as distorted echoes started emanating from the cavern ahead. She steeled her nerves, and her ears, and forwent any attempts at stealth. The creature knew she was there, might as well confront it now as later. She swung around into the open space, finger tense on the trigger, and came face to icky face with-

"Oh, it's you." _Description still fits_, she thought cattily.

Tehrani lowered her own stun gun, face blanched like she'd smelled something bad. Rose dismissed her, however, eyes roving quickly through the room until they landed on Jake. Heart bloated with fear, Rose ran to him, falling onto her knees in the muck by his side, and frantically felt for a pulse.

"He's fine. Just out fer the count."

Rose gritted her teeth, but continued to feel for a pulse. "How about the Thraxin? Where's it?"

"'Bout seven meters leeward of ye."

Rose glanced over her left shoulder, taking in the oddly colored goo that splattered the walls and ceiling and puddled on the floor. This time, she allowed herself the luxury of wrinkling her nose.

"Didn't hold up to bein' stunned, 'm guessin'?"

"An' rightly so."

A sigh burst from Rose's chest as she removed her pack and settled it underneath the, thankfully, unconscious Jake's head before she stood and stretched. Pops echoed in the room as her vertebrae squeezed out the pressure, but Rose still heard when Tehrani started forward. Her senses were always tuned to that woman. Turning, Rose smiled when Tehrani stopped what Rose could only call her 'creeper walk'.

"Food for thought! Why, exactly, are there aliens out there smart enough to build spaceships that actually work, but still devolved enough to communicate in grunts and have a taste for human flesh, but the human race can't even get people farther than the moon?"

Tehrani laughed. It was genuine too, Rose was startled to realize. At least, it didn't sound tinny and forced like the other times Rose'd heard it. _Laughter out of a can_, Rose called it_, runny and sickly; not to be confused with canned laughter, of course. I hate canned laughter, havin' been on the receivin' end once too many when I was still the new It Girl and going on interview after soddin' interview, fake laughter playin' every time I uttered somethin' even remotely funny._

_And_, Rose thought vaguely, watching Tehrani with hawk eyes, _Jake is right. I do sound like him. I ramble. I wonder how long that's been goin' on. _Rose wasn't exactly sure how to feel about this new revelation. She'd heard that dogs or owners started to look like one or the other after a time, but never aliens and their not-girlfriends. Or TARDIS' and their alien's not-girlfriend; her eyes fell from Tehrani, only briefly, to assess that yes, she was wearing TARDIS blue and yes, she might possibly resemble the TARDIS if one squinted and tilted their head to the left —

"I heard ye don' trust me, Rose.


	2. 2

Rose snapped her eyes up, cursing her lack of concentration when she noted how much closer Tehrani had gotten. Sighing, she shook out her limbs and stood tall.

"Well, you are a villain, yeah? Come oooonnnnnn, you can tell me! Tie a lot of damsels to train tracks, twist your handlebar mustache about, do ya, Snidely?"

She watched as a malevolent grin slid slowly across Tehrani's face.

"Oh, yes, that's exactly what I am. Ye, how do ye humans put it? Oh! Ye hit the nail square on th' head."

_Humans? _"Humans? You can't be tellin' me you're not human. Torchwood woulda known. Also, ten points to me! An' none to Mickey, that naysayer."

Tehrani leaned against the side of the tunnel, her eyebrow quirked condescendingly.

"I'm from a superior race, Rose. If I want tae fool some overgrown simians intae thinkin' I'm human, well, it's not verra hard." She raised her right hand and wiggled her fingers. A silver band glinted in the lowlight. "Bio-damper."

Rose felt her muscles tense and her nerves buzz with excitement.

"You laid 'im out, yeah?" Her head jerked Jake's way and Tehrani cast one disdainful glance at his limp body. It was enough. Rose launched herself at the other woman, leg pulled up to execute a powerful front kick. The sound of shattering bone was satisfying. A broken sternum should keep her down.

Only it didn't. Not by half. Tehrani fell backward, a pained cry falling from her lips, but she used the momentum from Rose's offensive to execute a fine back-roll, feet over head, to land expertly onto her feet. One arm was holding her chest as fire spit from her eyes.

She smirked and drawled, "I should ha'e expected that."

Rose's eyes narrowed, the only indication of her annoyance, as she stated calmly, "Quite right, too."

Tehrani took a step to the left, raising her available arm at a defensive angle. Rose moved with her, eyes jagged and icy. She moved her eyes all over Tehrani's body, watching closely for any slight movement. She could tell her opponent was doing likewise, so Rose locked her joints, her bones. She didn't know what type of alien this woman was, what her strengths were, except that she was quite a bit denser in the cartilage than a human.

_Make it a bit difficult to defeat her, that. _

They circled each other in the cold, dark sewer, wariness so thick in the air, Rose thought she could choke on it. And she had to wonder why Tehrani, no doubt an alias, was after her. That's what it seemed. Jake was laid out, the Thraxin all but annihilated, and now it's just the two of them.

Pete always said, _If it feels like a trap, looks like a trap, and smells like a trap, well then… your ass is __**so**__ screwed._ Rose smirked, just the littlest bit, as she paced Tehrani. Well, when it's true, it's true.

Quick as lightning, Tehrani launched herself at Rose, landing a devastating blow to the side of her head. Rose stumbled into the crumbling brick wall, temporarily incapacitated. Ringing zinged between her ears, bouncing off one side only to head toward the other, gaining momentum and volume with each pass. Stars seemed to dance in front of Rose's eyes, but not the lovely little twirling about the head her favorite cartoons always showed it as. No… her stars were drunk. And disorderly. Rose wondered when the police would come to give them a ticket. Really, it couldn't be all that safe, drunk and disorderly stars on the loose, now could it.

Gravel grinding against concrete penetrated Rose's daze and she blinked rapidly, trying to see the environment around her. The ringing in her ears abated and Rose could hear Tehrani's breathing, light and unlabored, as she — Rose peeked from behind her mess of hair — pulled bindings from her pack.

_If it smells like a trap…_

Slowly, Rose raised herself from the cracked and pitted floor, jagged rocks making her wince as they poked harshly into her palms. She regained her footing slower than she was happy with, but Tehrani was now methodically wrapping the cords together, knotting them into sturdier restraints. Rose was simultaneously flattered and freaked out by these events, but she pushed those feelings aside as she launched herself at her opponent, a smooth rugby tackle that elicited a pained grunt from Tehrani.

The cords flew across the sewer, landing with a squelchy plop in the corner of the chamber, but Rose didn't notice. She gripped Tehrani's wrists and head-butted her. There was a snap and a cry of pain, warm drops of blood landing on Rose's face and neck. Tehrani bucked, but Rose held tight and jabbed her knee into Tehrani's side. Air whooshed out of her opponent's mouth and rose took the opportunity to rearrange her grip. Too late, she realized her mistake.

Tehrani wasn't winded, not by a longshot, but before Rose could recover, or even contemplate why she wasn't out of breath, Tehrani gripped Rose's middle and rolled them. She saw it coming out of the corner of her eye and her heart sped up. Struggling frantically, Rose attempted to free her arms to cushion her head, but they were held firm and tight. The last thing she saw before her head was smashed against the wall was Tehrani's triumphant grin.

_Oh hell._

* * *

Clinking and clanging sounds penetrated the groggy fog that enveloped Rose like a hug from a loving relative. A loving relative who didn't understand the concept of personal space and moderation, anyway. She snickered lightly at the thought, the sound barely audible. Tehrani heard her anyway.

"So, ye're up. Impressive. Most humans would still be unconscious about this time."

Rose grimaced as the Irish brogue rolled over her ears and burrowed into her brain, intensifying her already enthusiastic headache. Groaning, she asked, "Would you mind _not _speakin', please? My head's 'bout to go supernova. 'Sides, you bad, me good. Don't think we got a lot in common to build a mutually beneficial friendship on, yeah?"

Tinkling laughter filled the room and Rose winced once more as it pierced her throbbing head.

"Oh, my dear Rose. I do so adore ye — except'in all that absolute _gushin' _about the Doctor, o' course. It is too bad that this process will kill ye."

Rose froze, her breath sticking unpleasantly in the back of her throat, before she consciously relaxed her muscles, forced breath out of her lungs. Rule number two: Don't Panic. This is, of course, if you break rule number one of Not Wandering Off. Well, Rose was fairly certain that this wandering off she was being accused of was not at all her fault and if she ever sees the Doctor again she will have to point this out.

Shaking her head and bringing herself back to the peril at hand, Rose tested her restraints. Grunting, she leveraged all her weight, but all she managed to do was strain her wrists and rub them raw. Her back hit the wall behind her with a thump and her breath came in heavy rasps. Her headache increased in tempo and she squeezed her eyes shut at the pain.

Tehrani clanked around out of her sight, but announced gleefully, "You won't be able to get out of those restraints. It's the most secure knot, and the easiest to unravel, in the universe. But you ha'e to know the seeeecreeet!"

Rose wrinkled her nose at the singsong tone and said, "No, no, don't, just, no don't do that."

Tehrani laughed delightedly and Rose, giving up on ever getting the throbbing under control, opened her eyes to observe the maniac. Small, round suction cups rested in the palm of her hand with, Rose leaned closer and squinted, tiny little metal disks in the center of each. Tehrani glanced up from the buttons and levers she had been manipulating and smiled a Cheshire grin.

"If ye wish to know what they do, ye jus' ha'e tae ask." She looked down to flick one more button before she sauntered over to Rose, her fingers caressing the edges of the cups. She picked one up, held it delicately around the body, and with her other hand viciously yanked Rose's head to the side and pressed the cup to her temple.

Through the intense pain that shot through her brain from the cup, Rose gritted, "You see, this is why I doubt our friendship. You say you love me, but then you electrofry my brain. Or are those electrowaves of love?" She couldn't help it as her voice went down in pitch, making her sound like she did when she spoke baby talk to her little brother.

Tehrani snorted in amusement and shifted to Rose's other temple, securing the other cup there. Rose continued, "I mean, if it was Billy Marston from high school — all you had to say was that you like-liked him and I would've backed off!"

"Is this really wha' th' Doctor sounds like now?"

Rose frowned. "Is it slightly creepy that I accidentally sound like him now that we've separated?"

Tehrani shrugged her shoulders and replied conspiratorially, "I've done worse fer a man."

Bobbing her head, Rose 'hmmhmmed' before re-engaging in conversation. "You know, you are the most pleasant Snidely Whiplash I've ever had the displeasure of trying to kill me. Also, what the hell do you mean, what the Doctor sounds like _now_?!"

Smirking, Tehrani sent a glance Rose's way before she turned back to her work.

"Caught tha' did ye? Knew ye would, smart thing like ya."

Mysterious sentence purveyed, Tehrani walked off into the darkness of the room, her body disappearing quite quickly. Rose pouted and glanced around. She paused, then glanced around a bit more. She looked into each and every little cranny she could find, examined the console in the middle like a germaphobe would a public loo, and her eyes widened in realization. To confirm, she closed her eyes, evened out her breathing, and attempted to blend into her surroundings. Minutes passed and sure enough, a telltale hum reverberated throughout the room. Wrinkling her brow, Rose tilted her head and listened harder. It shouldn't have been hard to detect, not if it was at full strength, but Rose… yes, it was dying. Halfway into the grave already.

Rose's eyes snapped open accusingly as Tehrani re-entered the main room. Tehrani arched one beautifully manicured brow and asked, "Yea?"

"You knew the Doctor. Which means that you don't belong here, in this universe…" A genuine smile spread across Tehrani's face and she turned to lean against the console, arms crossed and expectant — even slightly proud — look on her face.

"… an' that's why your TARDIS is dyin'."

Tehrani clapped her hands, but Rose barely winced. The throbbing had gone down to a dull thud, anyway.

"Oh, ye are a clever one! No doubt ye know why those readin's had looked so familiar."

Rose nodded. "They were TARDIS radiation levels. It's energy signature. But if you've been here ever since the Time War, at leas' that's what I'm assumin', how come we didn't detect you the first time 'round?"

A scowl appeared on Tehrani's face, the first time Rose had ever really seen her discontent. "I'd ha'e been able to detect ye if my TARDIS had been more powerful and yours as well. I'd registered a powerful blip, but then it was gone. And again, a day later, another powerful blip, but gone again within seconds. Pop in, pop out, ye did."

Tehrani fell into an obviously unpleasant reverie, if the twitches of displeasure on her face were anything to go by. Rose hated to alert her to the matter at hand, so she attempted to unravel the knot. Unfortunately, it held tight. She slumped back, her breath and mind racing.

"It doesn't matter. I'll get back tae where I belong an' then I'll steal the TARDIS, kill the Doctor too, if I can."

Rose's head jerked up, eyes narrowed. She drawled out, "Soooo, what's with the whole Evil Overlord of Time thing you've got goin' on? Thought Time Lord's, or ladies whatever, were s'posed to be all stuffy peepin' Tom's, strictly no interference."

"You expected the Doctor tae be the only rebel from our world?"

Not for the first time, it resonated within Rose — and quite unpleasantly at that — that she knew so very little about the man who held her heart. It was near enough to shaking her faith in his love, but only just. She pictured him, standing there on that barren beach, face long and eyes bleeding sadness, hands stuffed in his pockets like a little boy. Her strong soldier, heart crying out for hers. Actions speak louder than words and pictures are worth a thousand of them and all those other clichés, and because of all that, even though he'd been cut off, even though the sun he'd killed for _her_ had run out at the wrong time — she'd known. He loves her.

And it seemed she could get back to him. For a moment, for one blissful, carefree moment, Rose imagined overpowering Tehrani, jumping back to where she'd be able to reach him, being together again. A joyful smiled spread across her face, but then trembled lightly as reality set in. A death, hers or Tehrani's, would be needed. And if she was the kind of woman to kill someone in cold blood to get back to her Doctor, then she wasn't the woman the Doctor loves.

It was a spectacular fall back to reality. Rose was surprised her heart even survived the crash. She bowed her head, hair falling into her face and sticking to the tears that leaked out. Voice muffled, she asked, "Who are you?"

Tehrani snorted. "Ye'll not know me even wit' a name."

Rose's head snapped up and for the first time since this battle started, she showed an emotion other than amusement, her eyes slits and a fierce Tyler glare beaming like a laser into Tehrani's eyes. Blinking, Tehrani stepped back slightly, but regained her footing and laughed shakily, bravado firmly in place.


	3. 3

**PLEASE READ: I don't mean to extort, but it would be really nice if everyone who is continuing to read would leave a comment - even if it's just one word. Comments let me know people care for these stories, too, and would like to read more. Thanks!**

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"If ye must know, yer Doctor calls me the Rani."

Silence fell after the Rani's announcement, Rose's only reaction to blink. They stared at each other, a sort of expectancy in the air. Then —

"So… what's with the definite article before your titles, anyway? Tha' a Gallifreyan thing? Was there ever one known as the Launderer?"

The Rani smiled and turned back to her controls and Rose supposed that _that _was the end of that. As her eyes began to wander, so too did her mind. She needed to get out of this Time knot, or whatever Lady Whiplash over there calls it. She didn't fancy dying; after all, she still had a Doctor to find a way back to. She struggled a bit more, tensing her muscles and jerking back and forth. Nothing gained but strained body parts and a bit of a headache.

The silence was like a shroud, constricting and cloying, so Rose did what she did best these days. She talked.

"So, Rani. Can I call you Rani or do you prefer The Rani? How 'bout The?" A raised eyebrow was Rose's only response, so she carried on, "Why, exactly, did you build somethin' that needs death to operate?"

The Rani smiled as she tossed a glance Rose's way. "It doesn't _require_ death. It'll just weaken yer frail human body. And since ye'll be tied up here, where no one could ever find ye and, if they did, where they could still never reach ye, ye'll die of water deprivation or starvation or, less likely but still a possibility, from the energy drain. So sorry, love."

A few more quick flicks and the Rani announced, "Done! All ye need to do is focus on yer reality." Rose stared at the Rani. The Rani gestured impatiently at Rose. "Go on, then!"

"Wait, hold on." Rose shook her head, pretended to clear her ears out with the tip of her shoulders. "You're tellin' me that to get to the right universe, you need _me _to operate it? The instrument of my own impendin' death?"

A scowl spread across the Rani's face. "Ye haven't yet acclimated to this reality, not like yer friend, so yer DNA is still 'programed', shall we say, to yer original universe. But the particles need tae be directed consciously. Yer t'only one who can do that, unless… Yes!" She cast a sly glance at Rose. "Thanks fer remindin' me. I'm so used tae people obeyin' my orders it never occurred tae me ye'd refuse."

"On what planet did anyone ever obey _your _orders?"

The Rani was in the process of lowering something from the ceiling of the TARDIS, her answer accordingly distracted, "On Miasimia Goria. I enslaved an entire planet fer research purposes."

Once the machine was lowered, she set to work taking off the backing and fiddling with the wires. Rose craned her neck to see, but the lighting was so low and the angle off that she couldn't catch more than the fleetest wire end.

She glanced up once as she welded a few pieces into place on the round helmet thing and divulged, "If ye hadn't've taken that psychic trainin' Torchwood offered, I wouldn't have tae do this. I coulda just entered yer mind an' persuaded ye to do what I wanted. As it stands now, this is goin' tae hurt us both."

She heaved an overly dramatic sigh as she looked back to her work and continued, "Ye'll have tae come with me then. I won't have access to this Arch once we leave, so I'll need tae use the Doctor's. Maybe I'll be kind an' leave ye two stranded on a deserted planet together."

She laughed and cast a mocking glance at Rose. "Wouldn't that be romantic?"

Rose narrowed her eyes. "What do you have against the Doctor anyway? Did he dump you on your prom night?"

"As if I would ever lower meself to associate wit' a Time Lord who only passed with 51%, the _second _time around, no less."

Tinkering done with, the Rani swiftly approached Rose and jammed the device onto her head. She set the matching helmet onto her own head and then cuffed herself to the railing that circumnavigated the room.

"Glad I found these."

A chill spread down Rose's spine, standing her hair up on end. "What you doin'?"

Cold eyes bored into Rose's. "These're gen'rally used tae turn a Time Lord or Lady human, suppresses their knowledge, personality, everyt'ing that makes them who they are, into a wee watch. Then creates a character fer the shell tae use, unaware of anyt'ing else. I've modified it though, an' now we're gonna take it fer a test drive. Sound fun?"

"Not really."

"Great!"

"Great, she says. Fun, she says. Needle in my eye, I say."

Rose was barely finished mumbling when she heard a click and then intense pain, the likes of which she'd never felt or even believed existed, drilled into her brain. A shrill scream reverberated around the room, Rose's cries blending with those of the Rani.

She could hardly think and what she could think was scary. Her eyes and ears had to be bleeding out, Rose just knew it, and her brains were leaking out her ears as well because they had no form, not any longer. They'd been liquefied by the sheer intensity of the power surging through her head.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the pain quit. She could feel her throat, burning with the power of her screams and her ears, filled with a silence so hollow she felt like she was just floating in the vacuum of space. She wondered why she couldn't see the glow-in-the-dark stars on her bedroom ceiling, why her whale sounds were turned off and she sat there, slumped against the wall, her muscles quivering with aftershocks and, she noted distantly, her heavy breathing seemed to be doubled.

No… the other sound was off and there was a light, repetitive clicking in the background.

It reminded Rose of the TARDIS when she was settling… the TARDIS. Rose's eyes widened as her memories rushed back, nearly overwhelming her senses. Blood flooded her head and sent millions of little dots before her vision. She blinked swiftly, trying to clear the obstruction and when she did, she froze.

Across from her, wiggling out of the intricate knot-work, was her body, with her face and her hands and her hair. There was her arse, lovingly encased in black jean trousers and there were her feet, moving swiftly toward the console. She looked down. The eyes she saw with (for surely they couldn't be hers) took in the black leather side-tie trousers, the black leotard and chunky belts decorating the waist, and the black mid-heel boots. In other words, the clothes Rani had been wearing before the excruciating pain. And Rose was willing to wager that the head she resided in as well was Indian in nature.

"You switched us?!"

Rani didn't even glance up from her work. "Indeed."

The Time Lady-cum-human flipped a few more switches and then secured the suction cups to her stolen head. She concentrated and the lights on the console screen lit up.

Satisfied, she waltzed over to Rose, smirk on her face. "Ye've got quite the nice body, Rose. It's weightless an' light an' oh so young!"

Rose wrinkled her nose in distaste. "So I've been told."

The Rani grabbed Rose's wrists, clapping a second pair of handcuffs onto them, clear of the bar, and then removed the ones holding her secure. Before she could even make a move to free herself, the Rani pulled a slim device from a shelf and pressed it into Rose's nape. A lick of electricity leaked out, making the hairs there stand on end.

"Don't try it. I'd rather not have tae abuse my own body."

The Rani waited until Rose settled, then nodded, satisfied. She dragged Rose backward to the console, hit a few more buttons and then closed her eyes. Rose didn't dare to attempt jerking out of her grasp; even though her concentration was elsewhere, Rani's hands were like vices around Rose's neck.

A strange hum from the console caught Rose's attention. It sounded old, heavy, like gears long gone unused were fighting through the rust to obey its master's commands. It hurt Rose's heart to see a TARDIS so ill-used. That thought was redirected when a bright, pulsing light started to emanate from a convoluted jumble of tubes and wires sitting next to the console. Rose briefly wondered how she'd managed to miss such an eyesore before all thought was… suspended, would have been the word she would have used, had she been able to think.

Rushing - like wind - passed her ears at velocity, filled her head, accompanied by a slightly unpleasant tugging sensation. She felt like she was being unraveled; her structural string had been pulled and now the rest of her construct was coming undone. Then, so swiftly it turned her head (had she a head to turn and what the hell kind of thought was that for a non-thought, anyway?), there was nothing and she could think again. Or could she? The silence was so silent that it was screaming at her and yet saying nothing at all. The black all around her was so black that she had to squint just to see nothing and the nothing around her was so… not there that she felt squeezed in between hard places she couldn't see.

Her breath, if breath indeed it was, started coming in panicked gulps and she started to struggle. Her legs kicked out and her arms flailed in front of her, though she really couldn't be sure. She couldn't see them; perhaps they were behind her if she could remember what behind meant and all of the sudden, Rose understood. This was the Void. The Nothingness. The Howling. She forced her mind to settle, her breath to slow, and closed her eyes, or opened them, and remembered.

She'd been abducted by the Rani. The Rani was a Time Lady and had a plan to get over to their right reality. She wouldn't launch them blindly into the Void. Rose knew this for certain because she'd run across more than her fair share of crazies in her line of work and the Rani was as sane as a line was straight. Well… maybe her line had a slight curve and couple of zig-zags to it, but where it mattered, she'd not launch herself into this purgatory.

Right. So. First things first: ready herself for a quick and smooth martial arts move of some kind that will imbalance megalomaniac lady and get her out of reach of the… taser-thing once they reach the other side. Easy peasy. Except Rose couldn't think of any move that would qualify. Gritting her teeth, she thought, _Drat! Should have watched that Houdini special after all._

She kept still, hoping to fool the Rani into thinking she had gone comatose, and readied herself for the attack once they reached the other side. It wasn't long before they phased through again, the rushing sound a warning and then Rose was once again being unraveled. She desperately tried to keep the one thought — _escape _— in the forefront of her mind before she couldn't think at all.

Sound rushed back into Rose's ears abruptly, along with the ability to move and before the Rani could catch her footing, Rose ducked to the side and swung her hands upwards, smashing her fists savagely into her own stolen face.

Wincing, she hoped she hadn't done permanent damage, and then rolled to the side just in time to evade a crackling energy blast from the weapon the Rani held. Using her senses to ascertain where the Rani was located relative to her, Rose somersaulted over and picked up a rock, flinging it in the calculated trajectory.

A cry of pain and smashing of plastic made Rose smile. She gained her feet and twisted around, ready to face her opponent… but she wasn't there. Rustling in the brush that lined the dirt road they'd landed on indicated her direction and Rose took off at a run. She was getting her body back if it _killed _her. A grim smile spread the length of Rose's now delicate face.

_It wouldn't be so bad, really, if my consciousness was back where it belonged when this body succumbed to the dire fate it deserves._

And the Doctor would give her a frowny-face for such a thought, but Rose knew he'd forgive her. He always forgave her. Giddy, she let a laugh slip passed her lips. She was going to be with her Doctor again! She might just have to thank the Rani — after she kicked the Lady's ass of course.

The cuffs that bound Rose's hands slowed her down, the chain linking them together catching on dangling vines and slight tree branches and sending her sprawling. She fell spectacularly and a distant echo of joyful laughter filled her mind.

_Up you get, Rose! _The phantom-Doctor shouted. She snorted and pushed herself up. Sun danced through the swaying leaves of the treetops and glittered on something metal and lovely. Grinning, Rose gained her knees and reached for her TARDIS key.

_Thank the stars I didn't get that chain fixed when I should have. _

She stuffed the key into a zip pocket on her tight trousers and lurched to her feet, continuing her pursuit of the Rani. But by the time she made it to another dirt road - track, really - the Rani had gone. Growling, Rose stomped her foot, just the once, no one was around to see.

And then she noticed something… bizarre. She wasn't at all hip to the Time Lord science, but she was fairly certain they should have landed at the same when they came from. As it was, she'd take a guess and say they'd landed in the early 1900s. Not too hard, really, what with the shiny new advert for the dance supporting the veterans of the second Boer War nailed prominently to a tree.

_Dead clever, me._

Taking a chance, Rose leaned passed the tree and looked down the lane. Sure enough, a quaint little village, anything but modern, was situated at the end. Rose supposed she came upon it the back way and she also supposed there had to be a blacksmith of some kind who would be lovely enough to remove her manacles. If not, she could always try telepathic persuasion. Her psychic training should help her control the telepathy this body wields. She hoped.

Taking a deep breath and forcing herself to stand tall, Rose took a step out onto the lane. And was almost run down by a runaway bloke on a bike.

"Whoa! So terribly sorry, I haven't quite — _ahhh!_"

Rose winced as she watched the man careen wildly into the bushes in the ditch on the other side of the lane, his sedately done hair winging up in every direction. Stunned, she laid there, hands pressed uncomfortably into the hard-packed dirt of the path by her belly, the only thought in her head: _How odd. I heard him coming long before I stepped out, but it didn't register._

She was snapped out of her musings when the unfortunate man groaned in pain, or embarrassment, and quickly pushed herself to her feet.

As she strode over to help the gentleman out of his dire predicament, she mumbled, "Right. Note to self: Until further notice, get used to the Superman hearing."

The man was still shouting apologies behind him, even as he attempted to untangle his coat from the handle bars of his bicycle.

Rose pressed a hand to his shoulder, stilling him as she said, "S'all right. My fault n'all, steppin' out in front of you like that. Didn' see you, did I? Now jus' calm down. No one ever freed themselves from the thorns by thrashin' about, yeah?"

That said, Rose set out to disentangle the coat from its prison as best she could with the shackles weighing her down. Minutes passed as the man lay there, back of the neck and strangely familiar cheek bright red in humiliation. All that could be heard for those precious few moments was the breeze rustling through the trees, a bird calling out to another, and the _clink-clink _of Rose's cuffs as the chain that held them together rattled with her every move.

Finally, "There n'you go. Now what did I tell you?"

The gentleman rolled over, onto the grass, and gazed up at Rose. Her eyes popped wide and the breath in her chest froze. The man, the _Doctor_, dropped his grateful smile, replacing it with a panicked expression.


	4. 4

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"What? What's wrong? Did I hurt something terribly?"

They looked into each other's eyes, Rose searching for anything. Surely he couldn't have forgotten her. Her heart twinged in her chest. It could have been a long, long time for him. She could be nothing but a dusty little memory box, packed away neatly in the back of his mind. Tears flooded her eyes, clouding her vision, and she fell back dazedly, landing with a thump against a broken tree trunk. The pain in her back echoed up her spine, mimicking the pain in her heart. Sounds drowned out and the world faded away.

The Doctor, _her _Doctor, wasn't hers any longer. He belonged to some other companion, his hand to some other woman's hand. Her breath hitched in her throat, but she tamped down on it. She didn't want him to feel guilty, not at all. She still loved him with everything she was and she'd never want to hurt him.

"Miss?" The voice - gentle, soft - jerked her back to the present.

"Miss, it is all right, you know. No one was seriously injured and I won't be taking legal action upon you."

Rose burbled out a slightly hysterical laugh. He didn't even _recognize _her! Her head fell forward onto her upturned knees and she forced herself to breathe. In slowly, out slowly, in slowly and out.

"Miss, please, I wish to know of your condition."

His hands reached for hers and cradled them gently. One thumb smoothed over the top of her hand and he continued on hesitantly, "… and why you are wearing restraints."

Brow crinkling, Rose cautiously lifted her head. _Restraints. _And then it hit her like a lightning bolt from nowhere.

Laughing, she shouted, "Of course! I don't rightly look like m'self, yeah? Of course!"

Heart lifting and heavy burden slipping away, Rose beamed up into the warily bemused face above her.

"Miss, have you hit your head? And why on this earth are you dressed like that? Skin exposed from the tops of your shoulders to the tips of your fingers and... dear God! Little slits exposing the top of- the top of your... _hips!_"

He'd leaned forward to whisper the last word before his eyes fell on the cuffs again. He jerked back and continued earnestly, "I have to warn you, if you are an escaped convict, I will have to return you from whence you came."

Rose snorted. Another of course, of course. He couldn't be her Doctor, he was totally ridiculous. Well, that wasn't saying much really, as her Doctor was the man who invented ridiculousness, but all the same, he didn't speak like this man. Not at all, not even a little bit, not even slightly.

_From whence you came, really! _Even his hair was all wrong - tame and dull and _boring_.

The stranger's confusion and concern - in the face of Rose's amusement - turned quickly into a stern, commanding look. It was so much like the Doctor's that Rose's stomach fluttered and her heart sped up. But no — he looked like her alien, but he was anything but. Nodding decisively, she said, "Sorry. I think I joggled my brains a bit."

She adjusted her body, tucking her knees under her and sitting there. She racked her mind for anything she could tell this man. She didn't fancy spending the night in the hoosegow. And, Doctor or not, she didn't want to invade his mind. For one, it would feel like a betrayal of the Doctor, though it was just a fluke of the universe that this man had her doctor's face and for another, she wasn't entirely sure she could handle the telepathy. She wasn't a native handler after all. It wouldn't do to leave some poor bloke's brain scrambled for the rest of his life, all because he was concerned for her.

Shaking her head, she began searching the Rani's pockets. There had to be something in here that was useful. As she pushed aside bits and bobs — _Blimey! Her pockets are a disaster area; like the Doctor's!_ — she assured the man, "I didn' escape from anywhere. Well, not any criminal holdin' facili'y, anyway. I - " _yes! _

Triumphantly, Rose pulled out the psychic paper and flashed it at the man. Furrowing his brow, he reached for the wallet, closing his fingers over Rose's, and pulled it closer to himself, squinting as he read. A shiver raced through Rose's body at the contact. His hands, at the least, felt right.

"Well, this will just not do. It certainly will not do at all. Once we get you out of this fix, Rose Tyler, I suggest you find a new job. One with a _respectable _boss. Indeed!"

With that fierce statement, he pulled Rose to her feet, making sure she was stable before he bent to retrieve his bicycle. Rose frowned and turned the wallet toward her:

_The Magnificent Mesmero_

Rose Tyler  
Magician & Assistant

Upon seeing the identity the psychic paper had cooked up for her, Rose smirked. She heard a rattling and looked up to see the Doct- man settle his bicycle against a tree and approach her once again. He took her by the arm and said, "Come along. We'll get those restraints removed and then I shall escort you to the constable's. You must report the negligence of your employer at once!"

Rose's eyes widened and she spoke over him, mind whirling with excuses, "Oh no! I couldn'. He's- he's gone, really. Sor' of… fled the country, as it were. Don't even know the bloke's real name."

The man gazed at her gently, his hand rubbing up and down her arm completely unconsciously. It did things to Rose's nether regions that convinced her they needed a stern talking to.

When he noticed his actions, he blushed and removed his hand, stammering, "I-I-I ap- apologize for being so forward, miss. I, well, I- s-so very sorry!"

Smiling, Rose bumped him with her shoulder and said, "S'all right. Not th' end of the world, that. An' anyway, what's your name?"

He blinked and blushed even deeper, eliciting a giggle from Rose. "Right! My name. I should have said that before but I was so very concerned… John, it's John Smith. P-professor."

Rose balked slightly. She'd never believed in coincidence and asking her to believe that a human man — she'd been close enough to feel his pulse — who looked exactly like her Doctor and had her Doctor's completely obviously fake alias as a name was really asking a lot. She cast a sidewise glance at Mr. Smith, her mind ticking furiously. Something was going on, it had to be.

The Rani would have known to lock onto a TARDIS signature with her machine and the only TARDIS signature around anymore was the Doctor's. She also used what she called an Arch to switch their bodies… she said something else as well, but Rose was having a hell of time remembering what, to her, would have been insignificant information at the time.

She pushed her brain through the haze that the pain, both from the jump and from the body switch, had left behind until she remembered. Her eyes popped wide once more and she cast a glance at the Doctor. Because it _was_ him, only human. It had to be because the Rani said that the Arch was supposed to work that way, but she hadn't paid much attention, what with her life in danger and everything. But she remembered seeing such a device in the Doctor's TARDIS, hanging quite ominously from the ceiling. She'd never asked after it because she'd not really wanted to know. It'd looked threatening.

But if it's him, why isn't he acting like himself? Why can't he remember her name? The Doctor never believed in coincidences either and this would be too much - if he had his memories, even the psychic paper wouldn't have worked. Rose was hopelessly confused and lost. She didn't like that feeling.

"Miss Tyler?"

John Smith's gentle voice, so like the Doctor's but the accent and pace of speaking all wrong, jarred her back to her nightmarish reality. She glanced at him and nearly melted at the oh so familiar concern etched in his eyes.

"This is the town blacksmith. He should be capable of removing the shackles from your wrists."

"Oh, thanks. I'll jus'-" When she raised her hands to gesture at the door, she noticed that John's coat had been draped rather cleverly over her cuffed hands. Eyebrows rising, she glanced at him.

He looked archly at her and said, "We can't have the townspeople thinking you are a criminal, can we? Indeed, not everybody would be as accepting as I about you being a…" He blushed furiously and leaned in, mumbling, "… a magician's assistant, were we in need of your card for explanations."

Rose pressed her lips together, attempting a somber façade. Nodding her head, she stated, "Right."

John Smith bobbed his head once, firmly, and escorted her into the blacksmith's. Rose shivered, her body adjusting from winter temperatures to the heat from the forge in the back of the room and blimey, but the Doctor was right about superior biology. She should have been colder, dressed as she was.

John rubbed his hands up and down her arms, warming her and she cast a glance his way. His attention seemed to be elsewhere and Rose wondered if it had been a reflex of the Doctor's, buried deep down.

If that's even how it works and it just might be. Another flash of memory ran through Rose's mind: _"These're gen'rally used tae turn a Time Lord or Lady human: suppresses their knowledge, personality, everyt'ing that makes them who they are, into a wee watch. Then creates a character fer the shell tae use, unaware of anyt'ing else."_

The Rani had said it. It re-wrote everything that they were, which would explain the psychic paper and no recognition — not even a flash — of her name.

Her heart(s) skipped a beat at that thought. What if he couldn't get the memories back? Or what if this John fellow fell in love and didn't want to turn back? How would he turn back if he didn't know who he was? What if-

"Miss Tyler."

Rose was shaken slightly on the shoulder and she remembered where she was. She refocused her gaze and noticed a slightly skeptical older man across the counter from them and another concerned look from John. She mentally shook herself, forced her worries to the back of the brain for the time being, and decided first things first.

"Sorry, was lost in thought… wonderin' what I'm gonna do without a job, yeah?"

John frowned and his grip on her biceps tightened. "Don't you worry about that, Miss Tyler. I will think of something."

Rose's heart fluttered again but she brushed it aside. He wasn't her Doctor, not right now; he was too soft-spoken, too normal… too human. She couldn't resist asking though, "Why do you care so much, D- Mr. Smith? You don't even know me from Eve."

He faltered, hands slipping just a bit on her arms, and then he looked into her eyes. He responded hesitantly, eyes shifting to the side and cheeks flushing, "I suppose… you- you remind me of-of someone."

He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Well, I suppose you could say that you remind me of the girl of my dreams." His fingers flicked her onyx hair and caressed her light, cinnamon-brown cheek. "Even if she is blonde. It's about the eyes, you see."

Rose's hearts stuttered heavily and she raised bound wrists to press her hands against her chest, attempting to calm their acrobatics. Her Doctor was definitely in there. Somewhere. She smiled her Doctor's smile, teeth bared and tongue peeked out. Oh yes he was.

A throat clearing jarred Rose and John and they laughed in embarrassment. John removed his hands from her person and Rose shook off the jacket. The cuffs gleamed in the fire from the forge and the blacksmith's eyebrows shot up.

Thumping her burden onto the splintered counter, Rose said, "I believe I have a problem. An' you, Mr. Blacksmith, have the solution."

The blacksmith backed away, hands in the air. "I cain't be party ta releasin' no convicts, P'fessor."

John sighed and shook his head. "Mr. Baker, she is a-a-a…" He lowered his voice again and leaned toward the other man, who leaned forward himself. "A magician's assistant." Clearing his throat, he stood straight again and continued. "Her boss seems to have left their last show in quite a hurry, fleeing the country you see, and left Miss Tyler in quite the predicament."

The blacksmith flashed suspicious eyes to Rose and she assumed that he'd heard this sort of bull before. John reached into her pocket and retrieved the card, blushing and mumbling an apology all the while, and showed it to Mr. Baker. He shuffled closer to read it and glanced up, nodding.

As John replaced the wallet, he whispered, "We would be most grateful if you did not spread word that she is a, was a… well, you know."

Mr. Baker patted the side of his right nostril with his pointer finger and nodded his head knowingly. John smiled in thanks and Rose could barely contain herself. By the way Mr. Baker was looking between the two of them, she knew he was thinking she was his mistress.

_Second time that's happened. S'kind of a record._

She suppressed a smile and cast a sideways glance at John. He hadn't a clue and it was that, more than anything, that made it hard for Rose to keep her mirth in check.

_What sort of innocent man did the TARDIS, the Arch, whatever, create?_

Well, she guessed she'd see as time went on. She was here for good and she wasn't leaving without her Doctor. The blacksmith gestured to the back of the room, where anvil and tools awaited. She hoped this didn't hurt.

They stood over the anvil, Rose's wrists spread wide apart and the chain taut between them. Mr. Baker took a chisel and stuck it between a link, then said, "Grab t'sides of the anvil and hold firm." Rose nodded and did as told, her fingers digging into the metal.

Mr. Baker nodded, grabbed his hammer, and struck the end of the chisel. The force against Rose's wrists made her wince, her teeth embedding into her bottom lip. John stepped forward and settled his hands on her arms again, squeezing and smiling in assurance. Rose smiled back, amused. Another _chink_! Another wince. A third, forceful blow and the link broke.

Rose sighed in relief, pulling her arms out to the sides, stretching the stiffness out of them. She rolled her wrists, still encased in the actual cuffs, and groaned in appreciation.

Mr. Baker spoke up. "I don't rightly know how ta get t'locks on the cuffs undone. Nothin' I ever seen before an' I should know, me bein' commissioned ta make cuffs for the constabulary now an' then."

John looked dismayed, but Rose wasn't fazed. "No problem, Mr. Baker. I'll find a way to get 'em off. I am a… magician's assistant, after all." She grinned delightedly when the gentlemen grimaced. "I thank you for your help."

The blacksmith nodded once, removed his hat and blushed when Rose released her brightest smile. She didn't know if it had the same effect in this different body, but she suspected it at least had half the power, judging on both John's and Mr. Baker's expressions. Not bad, for a magician's assistant.

* * *

John cast glances at Rose out of the corner of his eyes, hands wringing in uncertainty. He knew he was being rash, latching onto a woman he didn't even know, but there was something about her. She glanced up at him and smiled, her eyes quirked curiously. John froze and blushed, _again_, turning his attention in front of him.

His mind whirled as he grasped for something to talk about. "I will see if the school needs any assistance in a female capacity, shall I?"

Rose smiled, teeth bared and the tip of her pink tongue sticking out, and his heart skipped a beat. It was so much like the Rose from his dreams.

John paused. Two Roses: one dream and one reality. He looked at the one by his side again, eyes scrutinizing. She had gorgeous light cinnamon skin, almond shaped eyes, and dark, dark hair. In this day and age, she'd not be considered for any jobs higher than au pair or, well, magician's assistant and suddenly, John Smith felt shame.

_Would I have listened to her, helped her if she'd not reminded me of my Perfect Rose?_

He startled back to Earth when Rose's hand settled on his forearm. Turning back to her, he smiled shyly. His eyes caught on her hands, cuffs shining in the weak winter sun, free hand curled around something in her palm.

"I'll be fine, Mr. Smith, thank you, though. I've got a… friend about here. I'll be fine."

John nodded, swallowing. Disappointment spread through him. He'd have liked Rose in his workplace.

"I'll keep my ears open just in case, shall I?"

Rose smiled and nodded, then gestured down the road. John watched her as she disappeared down the bend.

* * *

Rose shook her hand as the key glowed hotly. She pushed the hanging branches out of her way with her other arm and continued on right, then stopped. The golden glow emanating from the key had dimmed. She backtracked, turning left, and the glow intensified. Smiling in satisfaction, she struggled through the undergrowth, dodging broken logs and scaling an old, crumbling stone wall, destroyed by time and the power of nature.

A grunt fell from her lips as she landed on the other side, slightly farther away than expected, and that's when the key pulsed so hot Rose could no longer hang onto it. She yelped and the key flipped into the air, soaring a bit until plopping in the sloggy mud. She smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. There, right in front of her, was a dilapidated shed.

_Stands to reason that if the Doctor's in hidin', then the TARDIS would be too._

She picked up the key gingerly and smiled as the glowy heat receded, then skirted the edge of the shed, stumbling through the overgrowth and onto a well-used track. She snorted, mentally reminding herself to figure out the way of this road, before she approached the shed.

"It's locked."

Rose froze, her hearts seizing for a few seconds (and, _huh, that double respiratory bypass thing's all kinds of awesome_), before she shuttered her surprise behind a genial countenance and swiveled on her heel. Behind her — or rather now, in front of her - stood a beautiful black woman, a maid by her dress, with a belligerent and suspicious look on her face.

Rose's quick eyes took in her defensive stance, hands trembling a bit, her proud head held high (not something one would think to see in a black maid at the beginning of the 20th century) and — _there_! Glinting in the sun was a Yale key on a cord, exactly identical to the one Rose held close in her hand. The Doctor's new companion.

Rose wasn't jealous. Well, ok, scratch that and call her a liar, she felt a small twinge of the green-eyed monster but it quickly swamped under her relief that her Doctor hadn't traveled alone. He needs a looking after, that one, but if she knows her alien — and she does, in the ways that count — this woman was just a friend.

Rose had taken this all in within milliseconds which gave her time enough to appreciate the rate of assimilation a Time Lord brain could run at before she nodded in seeming appreciation.

"Thanks. Was jus' lookin' for a spot to rest 'for I had to continue on an' find presen'able clothes."

The other woman's eyes narrowed at the mention of Rose's attire. Her eyes raked up and down, and Rose bit her tongue at the distrustful look in the 'maid's ' eyes. Clearly, they were hiding from someone. Or something. It was probably a thing.

"It is rather unusual apparel you're sporting."

_Ooo, posh!_ Rose twitched slightly and tamped down on the catty side of her she thought she'd lost long ago.

"Yeah, well, magician's assistant an' all. Well, used ta be, see, but he's gone an' become a criminal on the lamb and here I am, jobless. Clothes-less too, 'cause he went an' took the entire automobile with 'im and my suitcase too."

The suspicious light in the other woman's eyes let up a bit, but there was still a leery tip to her lips. Rose pulled out her psychic paper and showed it to her, the paper billing releasing the little tension that had been left in the other woman's shoulders.

Rose'd have liked to tell the truth, mind, but if the Doctor's hiding from something and someone this companion doesn't know and has never seen or heard of pops up asking about the Doctor and why he's out of commission, well, things could only go so wrong from there. It's not like Rose can verify herself, as she's currently in the wrong body.

The 'maid' looked up at Rose and nodded, a small smile on her face. "A magician's assistant. Must give every respectable person you see a coronary."

Rose laughed, genuinely, and the other woman joined in. "Yeah, guess so. Never been one to follow the expected path, me. I mean, where's the fun in that?"

"I'm Martha Jones," Martha declared, her hand sticking out for a shake. Rose smiled and took her hand.

"Rose Tyler, as 'm sure you read."

Martha nodded and then paused, her head tilted to the side as if making a decision. Then, she was a flurry of movement. She swept off her cloak and handed it Rose, then reached into her hair and pulled out a kirby*, giving that to Rose as well.

"Here, put that on and try to get those cuffs off your wrists. You're a former magician's assistant, you've got to know how to pick a lock. Stay put here and I'll go see if I can find any… appropriate clothes for you to wear. In the shed. Where such things are kept. In trunks, like."

Martha sort of jerked once, as if unsure, before she powered through that awkward statement and toward the old lean-to. She turned back as she unlocked the padlock and assured again, "You just, you stay there. Don't need you running into the law and being incarcerated for improper attire."

Martha barely opened the door and Rose raised her brows. This woman was really bad at subterfuge. She wondered how that worked out with the Doctor's life. When Martha's head turned aside as she went deeper into the building, Rose craned her neck and caught a glimpse of her beautiful old girl before the door clicked shut.

Home. Rose smiled dreamily as she lashed the cloak's ties around her neck and sat in a swirl of scratchy wool.

* * *

Martha pawed through the TARDIS' wardrobe room, thinking about the completely plausible and yet entirely impossible scenario outside. She'd seen history documentaries, knew that in this time, risqué looking assistants for magicians attracted attention to the shows. Rose's clothes fit the bill, but Martha knew something wasn't right and it all resided on those cuffs Rose had around her wrists.

Looked modern, didn't they? Of course, she isn't an expert on handcuffs and maybe magician's handcuffs were different. Still, Martha was determined to help the woman, just in case her very believable story was actually true.

Didn't mean she wasn't going to try and keep an eye out. Maybe she was part of the Family. After all, she was awfully close to the TARDIS, could have sniffed it out.

"Gotcha!"

Dress, underthings and shoes in hand, Martha hurried out of the wardrobe and down the stairs, through the console and out of the TARDIS. She shut it firmly behind herself and hoped that Rose hadn't taken a peek inside. As she slipped through the small sliver of an opening she made in the door, she was relieved to see the Indian woman sitting against the tree in a pool of wool.

And isn't it funny to note that an Indian woman from this era was named Rose Tyler? Then again, lots of soldiers going to India, aren't there? Lots of British gents having business, could have married an Indian. To make her respectable they probably stuck a British label on a half-Indian import sort of thing.

She saw as Rose perked up at her reappearance, her eyes scrutinizing the garments in Martha's hands. If Martha wasn't a bit mistaken, she'd say there was distaste in those eyes. Of course, running around in clothes like that had to be more comfortable than layers upon layers of skirts, but still. Wouldn't she be thankful to look respectable?

"Here. Just change over there in the bushes. I'll keep watch."

Rose smiled and nodded, then took the clothes to the edge of the bushes. As she started to disrobe, Rose laughed to herself. With that grand accent, Rose couldn't figure out how Martha was passing at all as the lowly help. She honestly wasn't fooling anyone — at least, Rose thought with a shiver, not anyone that mattered.

Glancing at the other woman from behind her hair, Rose wondered how long until whoever they were hiding from found Martha. She stuck out like a sore thumb.

As she wriggled and shimmied into the copious amounts of unnecessary cloth, Rose decided she was going to have to keep an eye on Martha and the whole operation, even if she didn't know what exactly was going on.

"Here, let me help."

Rose heard Martha's steps crunch over the frosty grass, still green in winter in that magically British way. Rose finished up tightening the strings on her back and turned, smile in place.

"Got it. Thanks."

Martha raised her brows. Rose shrugged and informed, "Not exac'ly a highfalutin lady, am I? Got to learn how to do thin's on my own, don't I?"

Martha nodded slowly. Her eyes roved over Rose once before looking her in the eyes. "You have a place to stay? A family to go to?"

Rose shook her head, supposing she couldn't very well stay in the TARDIS now she knows there's someone else with a key, but her mind was still only half on Martha's words. The other half was on the vest she was straightening. It wasn't a servant's garb, but it wasn't too high on the social chain either. Rose supposed she could pass for a shopkeeper or even a librarian with the dove gray and plum pinstripe vest over the white blouse and dark gray skirt.

_Well, in any case, I have no intention of becomin' a shop girl again. _

A gusty sigh expelled from Martha like it couldn't wait to get out and Rose finally turned her full attention to the other woman. Though, remembering the Doctor and his ability to pay attention to eight things or more at once, she wondered why she wasn't doing it. Was it because her mind wasn't Time Lord even if it had been inserted into the body of one? Which didn't really make sense, since she's got the alien speed and such. She mentally shrugged.

"Well, I suppose… I could see if you can come work with me. At Farringham School for Boys. Don't know what positions they might have open, but they've got to have something."

Rose smiled gratefully as she looked Martha in the face, though internally she was examining everything from the girl's stance to her facial expressions to the shifting of her eyes. This girl was… curious about Rose, to say the least. By the tone of her voice — slightly breathy and a little rushed — she was eager - too eager - to get Rose in the same place as she was.

_As If'n to keep an eye on me. Well, 'spose I've got to re-evaluate this Martha Jones. Sharper than I thought._

* * *

Matron Redfern tightened her cloak about her body as she walked down the rutted road. Wind rustled the remaining leaves on the trees and the chill aura of the air seemingly sucked the warmth right out of her body. But none of that could explain the feeling of icy fingers skittering down her back — like she was being watched, examined, studied like a bug under one of those microscopes at the big universities she'd seen on a tour once.

Her eyes furtively glanced between the trees, into the darkness within, above her to the canopies and behind her as often as she could and her steps quickened. Something was not right and her husband, God rest his soul, always told her to trust her body's reactions. Seemingly arbitrary instincts — what she's always called paranoia when she was a green , unmarried girl — had saved his life many a time while in the military — save the last.

Joan shook off the melancholy and continued on, her body on high alert. There shouldn't be anything dangerous lurking. Farringham was quite settled, so no wild animals of any significant size lurked about and there hadn't been a robbery or murder in over a century.

Rustling in the fallen leaves to Joan's right startled her and she paused, breath arrested. Her head turned slowly and her eyes furtively searched the dark.

A pale something moved in the detritus that littered the tree-lined ground. Joan squinted and leaned just the tiniest bit forward, eyes focused on the object. It moved again in a jerking motion and Joan gasped. It was a hand, the fingers twitching.

"Oh my!" She exclaimed. She hoisted her skirts above her ankles and hurried toward the person lying prone in the ditch, her instincts as a nurse overriding any others.

The girl, for she was a girl, was blonde. And dirty. Her clothes were quite… interesting, Joan noticed absently. The stranger seemed to be unconscious, though her hands would twitch from time to time. It was something Joan had seen, once, when she worked in London. Electrocution, it was called.

Joan took the girl's pulse, her brows furrowing in confusion as it beat steady and strong. She moved to adjust the girl's head when a groan fell from her lips. Her eyelids twitched and then fluttered open, eyes seeking out Joan's face.

"'m fine…"

Brows hiked, Joan idly wondered what an Irishwoman was doing so far from home, in a tiny place like Farringham, before she once more became businesslike.

"Miss, are you able to tell me what happened to you? I thought at first it was electrocution, but I confess, not only is there nothing about in this wooded glade to electrocute you, your vitals are much too strong."

The girl breathed deeply and arched her back. Pops filled the air as the knots in her body unraveled and then she attempted to sit up. Joan slipped her arms behind the girl's back and helped elevate her slowly.

"Nothin' like that. 'S'a woman 'round here. Sh-she hurt me. Dangerous. Calls herself Rose T-"

Before she could finish, the woman collapsed into unconsciousness. Joan blinked, fear creeping in, but she didn't let it immobilize her. She made sure the girl was comfortable and warmed her with her own cloak. Mr. Clark's was just over the hill. She'd run for help and then fetch the constable.

As she ran, Joan contemplated this apparently dangerous woman. She didn't have a last name or a description. It would be somewhat difficult to get the man to open an investigation, even with the injured girl's testament.

* * *

Joan rearranged the bottles on her shelves, mind occupied with the episode that had happened earlier that day. Indeed, she wondered if perhaps the stress _was_ getting to her.

The girl had been gone when she'd arrived with Mr. Clark in his buggy. There wasn't even an indent in the pile of leaves that the girl had been lying in. Her cloak was there and Mr. Clark suggested perhaps that she'd had a bout of hysteria.

Mindful of her position, as a matron and a woman, she'd nodded and smiled politely but inside, she scoffed. Hysteria wasn't what the men of this world thought it to be but no one would listen to a woman, especially if she was accused of suffering from such. The door creaked open behind her and Joan turned, a courteous smile adorning her mouth as she watched the new maid, Martha, shuffle in with her lunch.

"Thank you, dear. I had rather forgotten that I hadn't eaten yet. You are quite sharp."

Martha smiled civilly in response but Joan had the feeling that Martha was merely tolerating her compliments. She couldn't comprehend why; the girl probably didn't get much in the way of praise. Joan was merely trying to be kind, but there you had it. The lower classes always were ungrateful.

Martha set the tray down upon Joan's desk and asked — in what Joan perceived to be a slightly hostile tone, "Anything else, miss?"

Joan shook her head, quickly dismissing the maid as her mind turned to more important matters and then she changed her mind.

"What's the gossip going around that there is a new female employee around here? I had not thought we had any open positions of significance and if it had been a maid that had been hired, no one would have said a word."

Martha grimaced but hid it quickly. Really, the girl was rather churlish, but as long as she showed no overt disrespect, Joan supposed she could ignore it.

"Mr. Higgs, the librarian, unexpectedly vacated his position not five minutes — literally, to the minute - before I showed up with a woman I'd found wandering around, having been summarily dismissed by her previous employer — with not even luggage to her name — and Headmaster Rocastle, desperate as he was, gave her a quick test and found she's more than capable of handling the library. You'll no doubt meet her at dinner."

Joan had perked up at the thought of a mysterious girl showing and she thought… "Was she blonde? Wearing an… interesting set of clothing?"

Martha paused on her way out, her eyes slanting suspiciously. She tilted her head and answered slowly, "No. Indian descent. Former traveling magician's assistant. How do you mean, interesting clothes?"

Shaking her head, Joan dismissed the impertinent question and fairly snapped, "Never mind. Off with you!"

She heard an irritated huff as Martha stomped out of the room. The door banged shut behind her.

* * *

The Rani hunkered down behind the stone wall that lined the edge of the school's grounds. It hadn't been hard, tracking Rose, nor had it been hard getting into the matron's mind and planting that seed of distrust in her subconscious.

Humans were so stupid, unable to access more than 10% of their minds. If they figured that out, oh they'd be unstoppable creatures! Like she was. She may be down one Time Lady body but the human brain _was _quite magnificent, when one knew how to use it.

The Doctor was in there. She could sense it. He was… weak, somehow, but he was in there. And that meant the TARDIS was nearby.

She'd let the little matron be her eyes and ears and rabble-rouser — wouldn't do to run into Rose again. Bitch was vicious. And the Doctor would know Rose wasn't in residence in this body just by looking at her. No, she had to sit and wait. She was good at that.


	5. 5

**Gak! So terribly sorry but my muse has fled, holed and barricaded herself up behind barbed wire trenches. She is currently lobbing bombs made out of stubs of pencils at me and my munitions fire keeps missing the mark! Anyway, I do have a little written, so you'll get an update but it will be small (I'd wanted to get at least 5k per post now that I've picked up momentum, alas), but I hope it will tide you tigers over.**

**Also, I forgot to say thanks to all who have reviewed, faved and followed! It's so nice to be famous! XD And just because I don't answer all of you doesn't mean I don't read and appreciate you! I will try to do better next time! **

**One other thing: last chapter I wrote about Joan Redfern but I'm not sure if she was too hard on Martha? I was trying to keep her in tune with her time and from what little of her character we saw around the lower classes, so please tell me what you think and I'll correct anything that needs correcting, if need be. And what do you guys think about me bringing Mickey and Jake back? Martha needs somewhere for her affections to go (or do you like Mickey with his own life and Tosh?) and I just adore Jake - have since his first few seconds on screen! I also like the idea of Rose and Jake being BFFs - plus, I've always had a hankering for Jack/Jake. What do y'all think?**

**And thirdly: should I drop Rose's and Rani's accents, overhaul the entire story and just mention in passing at the beginning about how they speak?**

* * *

Rose excused herself from the interminable dinner shortly after it had begun. The staff had started in on her the moment she'd stepped foot into the room, never letting up with questioning her on where her father was, where her fiancé was, was she indeed engaged, and should she be so inclined to be so soon, to give a notice in advance before leaving. _Bother_, and the Doctor always wondered why she preferred visiting the future as opposed to the past.

Her pockets bulging (but not really, bigger on the inside, hey – TARDIS must have sensed her – same with that librarian who'd mysteriously run off just when Rose needed a job) with food she'd surreptitiously stuffed them with, she strode quickly down the hall. She didn't want to run into anybody. The men were stuffy and boring and nosy, blimey! The matron, once she'd learned Rose's name seemed… strange and the students were arrogant little pricks that Rose wanted to wallop across the ears. Martha's eyes made her itch every time she was in the room to serve food.

Not to mention all the overt little racisms thrown her way for being Indian (and wasn't that annoying - she'd faced the same kind of discrimination when she'd venture anywhere that didn't speak Cockney - back before she'd run off with her Doctor - and she'd thought that was behind her now).

She was a Torchwood agent (well, former) and she'd done worse than this for undercover, even with the Doctor (and yes, she was commiserating the hell out of Martha) but it was making her twitch. She was beginning to wonder whether she should have divulged who she was to Martha, consequences be damned.

But then she remembered her reaction to Sarah Jane Smith. It would have been worse if the Doctor hadn't been there. And right now, the Doctor was mysteriously out of commission... and that, more than anything, was the major reason behind Rose's leave-taking; she couldn't stand being in the same room with the man who looked like but wasn't actually the Doctor.

* * *

Rose slipped through the darkness, staying in the deeper shadows, her black trousers – nicked from Laundry and probably one of the student's, tight-fitting as they were – keeping her travel swift. She'd come all this way and if she wasn't going to get the right proper Doctor for a while, she sure as hell was going to get to see her home.

The night sounds soothed Rose in a way she hadn't felt for so many years because the sounds here were... right. The night on Pete's World had been filled with Zeppelin engines and some strange cricket-like bug that had a glowing bum and sounded like a whooping-cough on repeat. After months of research, Torchwood had determined that yes, it was alien, but no, it wasn't harmful – just irritating.

Bringing her head back out of the clouds, Rose glanced up at the sparkling sky in time to notice a sickly green shot of something fly across it. Her head whipped to follow it behind the tree line and a soft thud indicated its landing. It wasn't even a decision worth debating. She veered off toward the mysterious light.

It was too much of a coincidence to not have anything to do with why the Doctor was the not-Doctor, so Rose took off at a run, dodging rocks and roots and hopping swiftly over gates and stone walls. Twigs grasped like greedy, gnarled fingers at her hair and scraped her cheek and neck, but Rose only ran faster. If she could glimpse it before the aliens inevitably cloaked the ship, she might be able to recognize and then determine which race they were.

She came to the edge of the woods, where it rolled into a field, mud divots glinting with a slight frost. Further out, Rose just caught the tail end of a ship as it faded seamlessly into the background.

Scrunching her nose, Rose sighed. It wasn't anything familiar in any case. She gazed into the field, her mind whirling, when her newly enhanced and borrowed hearing alerted her to the snapping of a series of branches and the shuffling of dead leaves on the ground nearby. Rose quickly stepped into the shadow of a huge trunk, pressing her body closely to the tree and stilling. She evened out her breathing and minimized the depth of her breaths to limit the movement of her chest (blimey, she loved this superior physiology).

No time at all and Martha Jones came into view, followed by a clearly hapless woman from this era. They were out of breath and wheezing and Rose worried that the two women would alert the aliens to their presence.

"See? Nuthin' there, Martha. It was jus' a comet, like Mr. Smith said, with the gasses 'n stuff."

"I could have sworn it fell down this way."

The other woman looked at Martha askance. "An' wot would you do with a piece o' comet anyway?"

Martha gazed a few moments more out at the field, consternation clear on her face. Then she sighed and her shoulders sagged. Turning, she commented idly, "You never know, Jenny. Someone would maybe like to own a piece of space or something."

Jenny let out a loud guffaw, disbelief etched on her face. "An' why would anyone want tha', eh? Wot's it goin' to do?"

Rose watched as Martha cast a tired smile Jenny's way as the two women faded into the dark night. Martha looked drawn, exhausted, like this adventure was wearing on her soul. Rose couldn't blame her – she wouldn't want to be black in 1913 either, and based on her posh accents, Rose suspected she was used to doing the ordering and not being the ordered.

Once again, Rose questioned herself. She knew how it was to be the help on a mission, but at least she'd always had the Doctor. Unless Jenny was a second companion (and bless her, but Rose didn't think so), Martha was all alone, with an amnesic Doctor and aliens on her tail. Rose wanted to help, but she didn't know if revealing herself would make things worse or better.

It was times like these that kept Rose grounded at Pete's Torchwood. She was hailed a hero, the most knowledgeable on aliens and the best problem solver for it, but she wasn't a god and she wasn't the Doctor. She didn't know everything and sometimes she messed up. She was worried she was going to mess up again and this time, the Doctor might pay for it – or Martha – instead of Rose.

For the first time that very strange day, Rose wished Mickey and Jake were here. At least Jake. He'd ground her, help her work through it, and she knew he was worried sick about her. They both would be. She hoped that they would discover that she'd been transported to another (her original) reality and not think she was dead. Although, maybe thinking she was dead was better than knowing she was in another universe but never knowing if she lived or died.

Sighing, Rose started to trudge through the detritus that littered the ground, deciding that keeping quiet was the prudent thing to do. After all, the Rani was still out there somewhere, quite possibly watching Rose already, and she didn't want to alert the evil Time Lady to Martha's – and subsequently, the defenseless Doctor's – presence.

* * *

Night rolled on into early morning as Rose stared at the ceiling of her chambers and she suddenly understood the Doctor even better than before. This body needed hardly any rest at all and when stuck in one place for too long without anything stimulating to do... she suddenly had a whole other level of appreciation for him.

Gusting out a loud, exasperated breath, Rose stood from her bed and jumped up and down, shaking her limbs and letting her head fall back, eyes closed. She then swung her arms across her chest and back, flexing her antsy muscles. She finished circling her neck and then opened her eyes, glancing once more out of the window. Six a.m. Good enough time to get a start on something - anything to bring a stop to her endless boredom.


	6. 6

She'd organized all the books in the library in under five hours thanks to her new mind recognizing and then organizing the call numbers in milliseconds. If she'd had help with the manual labour, it would have been sooner, but thankfully it was just her. It had been a nice distraction from her mind's inability to just stop.

Now, however, it was a little past 11 in the morning and she was bored. Flopped in her chair_, in a rather unladylike manner_ (she thought it with a satisfied grin – and slouched down a bit more in the chair), Rose debated whether to abandon the school for a day in the village or to wait around to see if any instructors or students would deign to visit the archives.

When the thought that the TARDIS was on the way to the village popped into her head, the decision was made. Plus, she could investigate. See if anyone's seen strange creatures lurking about down dark alleys. A smile spread across her face, which was scared off a moment later when the voice that had echoes of another, beloved tone broke into her thoughts.

"Good morning, Ms. Tyler. You're looking… relaxed."

The perplexed and slightly scandalized quality to John's comment spurred Rose's independent streak and she wiggled her bum lavishly into her seat, grinning brightly as she commented, "Quite right, too."

John paused and raised a brow. His mouth twitched and his fingers flexed around the brim of his hat, as if he was trying to ascertain whether to be amused or appalled, before he stepped further into the room.

"I have come to determine if you are settling in all right," he said, eyes flitting around the room in slight wonder, "but I can see you have already made yourself at home. The library has never looked more put together and, dare I say, welcoming."

Rose shrugged. "I had some time on my hands."

"Indeed."

Silence engulfed them after that, and Rose shifted slightly. She cleared her throat and turned her head to gaze out the window, a slight uncomfortable feeling invading her at the intrigued and almost fond light in John Smith's eyes. She really didn't know what to do if he started… feeling things for her. He wasn't the Doctor. There may be similarities but he just wasn't who she loved and she didn't want to have to confront something like that. It would be… difficult and she didn't want to hurt him. He seemed nice. If a bit… dull.

"School has been cut into a half day and as you are new, I was wondering if you would consent to accompanying me to town. I could show you about, take you to all the best places."

Rose jerked her eyes back to the stranger in front of her, noticing the nervous hitch in his stance that hadn't been there moments before.

_Blast! I can't say no because I was going anyway and if I do and he sees me… I don't want an unpleasant living environment._

Gritting her teeth and then smiling as brightly as she could, she assented, then murmured something about getting a cloak and could he wait for her at the entrance?

As they went their separate ways, Rose noticed from the corner of her eye a bit of black skirt whipping around the corner in the opposite direction of her room. She smiled a bit. It could be another maid about her duties but Rose had an inkling that Martha Jones had been doing a bit of spying. She was diligent, that one, if not quite cut out for MI6. The Doctor chose well.

* * *

John's pacing halted as a familiar voice called out, "Going somewhere, Mr. Smith?"

He looked up and into the face of the pleasant Matron Redfern and smiled.

"Indeed. I've invited Ms. Tyler on an outing to the village. She is new, after all, and I for one know quite what that is like. A tour is in order."

Matron's face fell a bit as he conversed and he felt a slight pang of conscience. He had been working up the nerve to court the Matron, that is true, but there was something about Rose. He felt a… connection to her. He couldn't explain it, but he could swear that the Rose from his dreams and the one in his reality were one and the same. A daft idea and perhaps not something he should allow to color his interaction with her, but all the same… he couldn't keep away.

His thoughts were brought back to the woman in front of him as she stepped closer and placed a hand gently on his arm. She leaned in and whispered, "Are you certain that's a… wise idea?"

Brows shooting to the top of his head, John leaned back and eyed the Matron.

"I beg your pardon?"

The Matron continued, "I only mean that, well, she turned up out of nowhere. We hardly know a thing about her and not to mention, she is of rather, shall I say, _unsavory_ stock. Perhaps it would be best to keep a professional distance."

John's face hardened and he took a deliberate step back, watching detachedly as the Matron's hand fell from his person. Her eyes widened a bit and she opened her mouth to speak, but John beat her to it.

"She is intelligent, that much is clear by the fact she has received the position of librarian, and it is hardly fair of us to judge her on her past since we do not have any details. In addition, Matron Redfern, you are being overly familiar with me. It is not your place to advise me on how to run my life. I will thank you to stay out of it."

Eyes wide and flush high on her cheeks, the Matron nodded stiffly. John watched as she turned and made her way swiftly across the foyer and into the back rooms. He then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, clearing a strange feeling of rage from his system as best as he could. As he calmed himself down, he felt an acute sense of embarrassment.

_Honestly, the poor woman was only trying to look out for my wellbeing. I had no need to snap at her so. _

It was unsettling, this unforeseen and quite uncalled for fury. He needn't have felt he was being attacked personally with the Matron's words and yet… and yet, he took the words as a sting to his own soul and in Rose's stead. Quite, quite disconcerting.

Steps on the stair alerted John to company and he looked up, face brightening and disturbing feelings receding, as he noticed Rose descending, lovely dove gray, fur lined cloak draped about her shoulders. He briefly wondered if magician's assistants paid that well before her smile distracted him. And that smile. He rather felt like prey to her predator when she smiled like that. Like a hare running from a wolf. A bad wolf.

A frisson of excitement skittered down John's spine and he blushed crimson.

_Who knew I had a bad boy inside of me?_

Rose approached, eyes clouded with concern as she placed her hand over the spot the Matron's had previously been. She squeezed lightly and leaned closer, her smaller stature allowing her to peek right up into his eyes.

"Mr. Smith, are you all righ'?"

Clearing his throat, John muttered, "Fine, fine. Fine. Perfectly fine. Fine."

Rose observed him for a few moments, eyes cataloguing John knew not what, before she nodded to herself, concluding that he indeed must be fine. A grin broke out upon her face once more and, as she walked toward the doors, hand trailing lightly across the cloth of his jacket, she murmured teasingly, "The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks."

Smiling bashfully, John followed Rose out, eyes caressing her swinging hips a bit guiltily before he snapped them to their proper place. In his dreams, he'd met Shakespeare, but Rose hadn't been there. He wondered why before commenting idly, "Is Shakespeare a favorite of yours, then?"

Rose made a purring noise, delicate like song of a hummingbird's wings, and admitted, "'E wasn't a favorite 'till I met someone who helped me understand 'im better. Got confused, mind, wit' all that flowery gibber an' the modern translations always left something t'be desired. Then I go' a hang of it an' now I quite like readin' the comedies."

There was a fondness in Rose's voice as she spoke of this 'someone' and John felt envy wash over him. It was the type of fondness one holds for a lover – or former, as the case may be – and he was feeling jealous and a bit inadequate. He'd never… and she had apparently… oh dear.

_It's never fun when one wonders if one can measure up. If things proceed that far._

"What 'bout you, Mr. Smith?"

John smiled and said, "I do rather enjoy the dramas a bit more. And if it pleases you and you don't think it is a bit forward, call me John."

Rose crinkled her nose in derision and commented, "Please don't tell me you 'ave a fondness for _Romeo an' Juliet_," she paused delicately, then, "John. An' call me Rose, then."

Breathing a sigh of relief, John nodded, once. "Actually, I find it quite romantic."

"_Romantic?! _Are you a nutter? Escape from Bedlam, did ya? _Romeo an' Juliet _is the epitome of teenage angst gone wrong. Why didn' they jus' run away? 'S'not like their families had any way of trackin' 'em. Why all the theatrics an' that? Romantic, bah!"

John smiled widely as Rose voiced her opinions. She was quite vociferous and lively. It was so very different from any other woman he'd known. He should be aghast, but there was something to be said about a woman who was confident enough in herself to not school her tongue. That's how Dream Rose was.

"You are quite the fascinating creature, Rose."

Rose bit her lip and nudged his side with her elbow. "Flattery will get you a muffin."

John tossed his head back and laughed. He'd never felt so carefree in… centuries, if that made any sense.

* * *

Rose felt a weight lift off her shoulders, just for a bit, as she wandered about the village with John on her arm and a half eaten citrus in her hand. She knew she should be investigating, but she was truly carefree for the first time in too long. At least she was keeping the Doctor's body safe. She hadn't stopped observing, she just hadn't questioned anyone yet. It would have to do for the moment.

She turned her eyes away from the bookstore owner who'd just stepped out for a smoke and back to John. He wasn't as dull as her previous interaction with him at her first dinner at the school had shown. He was quite kind and funny and sweet, if a bit of a product of his borrowed time. And she was wrong about him not being the Doctor, at least a little.

John may not have the knowledge of the cosmos swirling like a tempest in his eyes and he may not be as open-minded as the Doctor, but he babbled like the Doctor and got excitable like the Doctor. Rose wondered if she was seeing the Doctor as he could have been, without the weight of a thousand years and responsibility.

_But then, would he still be my Doctor?_

That was something she was struggling with. As she'd come down the stairs from gathering her cloak, she'd seen John standing in the hall and she'd been overwhelmed. Her decision to be aloof had fallen by the wayside and she'd teased him like she would the Doctor. And that was bad. She couldn't afford to get attached to a shadow who may or may not be just the softer side of the man she loved because John was going to have to go away sometime.

She didn't want that onus.

John stopped at a stall selling flowers, leaning down and inhaling deeply. He sighed in contentment before drawing back and gathering a handful for purchase. They were a deep purplish-blue, nearly the color of the TARDIS and very gorgeous. Her heart fluttered when he presented the bouquet to her. She took them gently, eyes going limpid as John explained.

"Hyacinths. A rather lovely flower. This color suits you, too."

Rose breathed deep of the wonderful gift. It was simple, yes, but it was also something the Doctor had never given her. And it was exquisite. She turned her head, face tickled by the petals of the flowers and asked, "No roses, then?"

John grimaced. "Do I look like a Byron?"

Rose giggled, mostly because of John's theatrical delivery, and resolved to research this Byron fellow. She turned back to sniffing the flowers, but caught out of the side of her eye the soft look John was giving her.

Jolted out of her whimsy, Rose pulled back, looped her arm through his once more and started walking. "What do they mean?"

John glanced down at her. "The flowers?"

"Umhmm."

"Well, they're equated to sport, play and rashness. But I'm of the mind that if you like a flower and think it's beautiful, that ought to take precedence over some arbitrary meaning assigned to it by horticulturists with too much time on their hands."

A chuckle burst out of Rose at that and John smirked lightly before joining in. She watched him enjoy himself and a part of her hurt that this wonderful, innocent man will have to disappear. Not because she wanted to keep him, but because he didn't deserve to be given life and have it taken away and because… that sounded so like the Doctor. And the Doctor could be happy, could have the chance to never know what he'd had to do to save the universe.

* * *

_Why is that little human running around with another little human? She'd better not get randy with him in that body. I'll not have it tainted by coarse actions that are below me! And certainly not with a primitive ape. _

The Rani growled as she ripped off a piece of bread and chewed vigorously. Her telepathic feedback loop from the little wannabe doctor was iffy at best right now, but she'd gotten enough to know that Tyler was parading around in _her _body with a useless sack of flesh. And that didn't make sense. None of it did.

Perhaps Tyler didn't know where the Doctor was, but that was impossible. The Rani ripped off another piece of bread and dipped it in her cheddar broccoli soup – some of the only semi-decent food she could find in this primitive era – and chewed thoughtfully. Unless… impressive as the Rani found Tyler (though she'd never admit it under threat of torture), perhaps the woman didn't know how to use the link.

_Or even of its existence. _

The Rani cursed vehemently. If that was indeed the case, then things were about to get a lot more complicated – and bothersome. This human body, while quite pleasing to the eye, was too small inside and its limited physical prowess and resiliency made the Rani more cautious than she would otherwise be.

_If that bitch hadn't have gotten the upper hand, I'd have been able to trace the Doctor with her link to him. Then again, _she growled in self-annoyance, _if I hadn't have assumed she would do my bidding, I could have rigged something else to make her focus on this reality and I would still be in my own body, capable of tracking the Doctor with my own mind and the technology in my pockets._

Snarling, she threw her food across the room and watched as it painted the flowered walls of her stolen bedchamber. She'd been in this inferior body too long and it was starting to take its toll, making her second guess her tactics, _reassess _the past.

_Wallowing! I'm __**wallowing!**_

This would never do. The Rani stood with a flourish and grabbed her overcoat (blasted weak little body). She had some chaos to sow, if only to make herself feel better. And perhaps it would draw the Doctor out. If she was quick enough, he'd never see her until it was too late.


	7. AN: Please read

Hello all,

I know I have 49 followers and 16 or so favorites of this story, but I get very few reviews for what I'm writing. Now, I love writing but I don't want to continue writing something that no one is interested in, so I would like to know if anybody is actually reading this story.

Thank you,

timp


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